


The Fly Over Years

by DustyImpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Gen, Grumpy Old Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyImpala/pseuds/DustyImpala
Summary: Dean and Sam aren't what they used to be. Never able to settle into civilian life, simultaneously revered as legends and shunned within the hunter community, the brothers make do as they can.Will potentially become a multi-chapter fic.





	The Fly Over Years

 

Dean cracked his eyes open, slowly. He peeked out past the crusty film that gathered on his lids and furtively glanced around. Still in the car. Sam was still snoring lightly in the backseat. The car was still parked exactly as he left it the previous night, a little away from the main road next to a lake in the middle of fuck-nowhere Wyoming.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and tried to sit up quietly, bones cracking and muscles entirely unwilling to cooperate after being forced to curl up in the front seat of the Impala for the night. _Fuck. Ow. Christ. We gotta stop doing this, I’m not 21 anymore. Hell, even 40 was a bit better than this._

He glanced back at Sam who was squeezed in the back. _It’s gonna be five times worse for him,_ Dean reminded himself. He could tell Sam wasn't thrilled with the arrangements for the night, but put up with it like the trooper he was. Hunting wasn't exactly a luxury career, and fuel prices weren't going down.

Dean finally got himself into an upright position, and eased out of the car as best as he could, shuffling back to the trunk to grab a toothbrush. _God, my mouth tastes like ass._

The slamming of the car door jostled Sam to complete wakefulness. Dean could hear him grumbling as he finally found his toothbrush and briskly began to scrub at his teeth, looking out at his surroundings for the first real time after his initial safety-check.

Wyoming. Desolate. It was spring but that didn't mean anything out here, the air was a cool 45 degrees and there was snow dotting the hills, wind making the powdery stuff swirl and scatter across the landscape.

The emptiness was depressing to some, but something about it appealed to Dean. Growing up in Kansas meant that there was plenty of nothing to be found. He privately found the big sky of the fly-over states comforting. _Except when they're hiding a fucking skinwalker._

That was the only reason they were camped in the car anyways. A skinwalker that nobody else seemed to have the time to deal with, the younger generation looking for more “exciting" hunts _-Try tangling with one of the bastards once and you’ll be wanting to have a lifetime of ghostbusting. Dumbass kids.-_ And nobody willing to help, as the Winchester brothers built up a reputation over the last four or five decades for being particularly hard on ones immediate life expectancy.

Sam made his way over to Dean, finally having extracted himself from the car. He looked quite comical, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking out at all angles. Digging glasses out from his breast pocket he said “No service out here so I can't get a real forcast, but I don't trust the look of those clouds.”

“Neither do I.” Dean replied. “Gonna get the kinks out of my legs and take a leak before we hit the road again.”

“Good deal.”

As Sam dug around the Impala for something to eat, Dean trudged off to do his business.

_How the fuck did Dad do this as long as he did? How did Bobby?_

Not that Bobby ever really went out of his way to stop the apocalypse on numerous occasions like the brothers did. He did try to sort-of retire, but always made an exception for Sam and Dean. _And look where that fucking got him. No, don't go down that rabbit-hole again._

And John...well he was single-minded in his effort to take out the yellow-eyed demon. And certainly never befriended the monsters that he was supposed to be hunting. And forget about Angels.

Dean wandered back to the car. Sam was displaying all the indications that he was ready to go. “Ready?”

Dean looked at his brother for a moment. They were both showing their advanced age. Grey hair, wrinkles around the eyes, and little bit of stomach and loose skin. Slower too. In good condition for their age, but still slow enough to be a liability to themselves. Or each other. He glanced up at the sky as if he was making a second, more thorough judgement on the stormy gloom above them.

_We were never supposed to ever make it this far. Is this a blessing or a curse? Cas, where are you?_

“Yeah, let's hit the road and get this over with.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's becoming increasingly clear that the mood to write only ever hits me at stupid o'clock at night. Also. Angst. But our Dean is tough, poor guy.
> 
> May or may not turn into a series. Gotta see where this muse takes me. Written and posted on mobile, sorry for any formatting/spelling errors. Feedback always appreciated.


End file.
